I don't have all the answers. The fine print confuses me, and absolute truths frighten me.
So I ignored the answers I did know. I submerged myself in my doubt and pride. I needed air. But things weren't always easy above the surface, and at least under the waves it was quiet. But I needed air. I built castles, not in the sky, but in the false security of my underwater foolishness. I needed air.
My Father mercifully pulled me out of the water. As my head broke the surface I realized how deep my need for air was. Head reeling, I gasped and struggled for breath. My lungs burned as they fought to push and pull life into my body. I needed air-but it hurt. Everything was heavy and wet-not like the weightlessness of the silent underwater world I had created for myself. But that muted existence wasn't sustainable. I needed air. Suddenly my ears were opened and the sounds around me were overwhelming. Finally I could hear distinct voices instead of the distant, slow sounds I had grown accustom too. Maybe what they had to say wasn't easy or simple, but at least I understood again. Black spots burst in front of my eyes as my pupils adjusted to the sunlight. Everything was clear. Not warped and broken like in my water kingdom.
Coughing violently I expelled water from my lungs, ridding myself of my former life.
I needed air.
I needed Jesus.
I need Jesus.